Jackal Among Snakes

“What do you think?” Argrave questioned Anneliese. The two of them sat on rather comfortable chairs just before a table. Despite the safety of the tower, neither removed their enchanted armor—the Tower was safe, but it was still better to be overcautious. They were in a private room, warded to block sound—commonplace in the tower.

Anneliese crossed one leg over the other. “Of the tower?” she asked, and when Argrave nodded to confirm, she said, “It is a bit… ostentatious, if I am honest.”

“Got that right. It’s no coincidence it’s in the middle of a plain. It’s a big, useless monument to pride. I think Castro would agree. You met him before, now that I think back,” Argrave settled into his chair, then sighed. “Induen’s dead.”

“You feel relieved,” she said—a statement, not a question.

“Yeah,” Argrave said, voice distant. “The provisional route I made at the beginning of… whatever the hell you call my presence in this realm, it’s veered quite far off course. And now, I’m planning to take us further from it.”

“I will help as best I can,” Anneliese only assured him.

“How are you handling these developments?” Argrave asked her.

Anneliese shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “I have been trying to focus myself on this place, this tower, and what might be within… I suppose that should tell you enough. I am nervous. I am afraid. We have angered something very powerful.”

Argrave snorted. “Hearing you’re curious about this place just tells me you’re the same person at root.” He looked to her. “But forget about who we’ve angered. Induen’s death wasn’t a crime of passion—it was a great damned opportunity. King Felipe’s angry, I’m a kinslayer—all of these consequences pale in comparison to the good that one act did, pragmatically and morally.”

“I never said I doubted your actions,” Anneliese soothed.

“I know you didn’t. I said it half to myself, honestly. But…” Argrave adjusted his sleeve. “Hearing him make that suggestion about your future—that got under my skin like nothing else. If I could have made him—”

The door to the room opened, cutting Argrave off. A short man with a straight back and a wrinkled, almost leathery bald head entered. He seemed kind and harmless. He looked far too small to threaten or intimidate, and the amiable smile practically writ on his face spoke to his kindness. Calling him kind was true enough, but Castro was light years away from being harmless.

Argrave rose to his feet at once. “Tower Master Castro,” he said eagerly. “Thought we’d be waiting longer—planned for a long conversation with Anneliese.”

“Ah…” his eyes jumped between the two of them.

“I’m Argrave,” he put his hand to his chest. “We spoke at—”

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” Castro interrupted, then stepped a bit closer after he shut the door. “No, I was simply… deeply awed by your progress. Both of you… my memory is not perfect, but your improvements seem utterly tremendous.”

an intense sincerity to them that practically forced both to smile. The fact he was happy eased

of necromancy, Order of the Rose-era creatures… large portions of both soul and magic power crystallize in the eye, preventing decay while retaining sight. The crystallized soul

Argrave’s turn to be awed when Castro so quickly identified

that’s… not why we’re here,” Argrave redirected, trying not to

raising one finger above his head until he tapped Argrave’s chest. “But beyond that, I

necromancy. Can pinpoint

back. “I am a curious person, and I enjoy

his eyes. “These are from surgery and alchemy, not necromancy.” Argrave shook his head, then sat back down at the chair. “Can we sit, talk? Like I

young lady Anneliese. Though your friend here drew my eye… you are no less the achiever, I see. Both of you are well into B-rank. Such a

Master Castro,” she greeted with

merely in terms of magic, that is evident.” Castro bobbed his head as he thought of something. “Well, I imagine you had other matters to discuss,” he said as he sat. “Come to milk me more, hmm? Another offer to turn a profit? How is business in

he lamented, realizing denying things at this point would just be insolence. Castro did not lead the Order of the Gray Owl because he was powerful alone—he was a shrewd and capable leader, under whom the Order had come to

will permeate throughout the Order. All is well that ends well. And nothing concrete traces back to you…

back into the chair. “You might start unnerving me if you know what

genial, now. Only a little. “So, what is it you want from me? Do you wish me to expedite your ascendency

Anneliese. “And we

for my sister. I’m going to be visiting her soon, you see, and I can’t come empty-handed. And on that note… I’d like a ride to

your sister?” Castro looked surprised. “That’s a sweet sentiment. I’m sure

as preserved books from the Order of the Rose that might be recovered. That’s my offering to you,” Argrave held his hands up. “But within… there’s a little artifact that can help my sister

chair, staring at Argrave with wonder.

on anyone. But I learned a

in agreement, and Castro’s eyes jumped between the two of

I can organize a team, have them come with you to

hoping it would be you, personally,” Argrave leaned forward, trying to appear as earnest as

white brows descending. “I cannot. I have

on going to Magister Moriatran to ask, next,” Argrave said—the man was ostensibly Castro’s largest rival, a councilor on the ruling

notion, young man. Do you suppose he will even agree to meet you?” Castro laughed, then scratched his cheek. “I do not say I have matters to

insisted, leaning yet more forward ‘til he nearly fell off the

shook her head to

I would jump at the opportunity if I did not have other concerns. Alas, the trappings of power.” Castro scratched the back of his neck. “I am told the Margrave sought aid from the Tower for the plague by your advice,” Castro noted. “And I’ve heard other whispers, too,